


Wish You Were Sober

by VerticalMan



Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: M/M, tv universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerticalMan/pseuds/VerticalMan
Summary: At a party, Micky is wasted and flirting with Mike, who just wants it to be for real.
Relationships: Micky Dolenz/Mike Nesmith
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	Wish You Were Sober

**Author's Note:**

> So the title and inspiration for this comes from the song Wish you were sober by Conan Grey. Enjoy!

"Miiiiiiikkkkkeeeee"

Mike looked towards the sound of the voice to find Micky, stumbling his way over with a big grin on his face and pupils blown wide. He sighed, knowing Micky could be even more of a handful when he was high. Maybe looking after him would give him something to do at least, besides sit in the corner and be a general wallflower. The party they were at were more of Peter's friends than his, and it wasn't quite his scene. He wasn't against drugs, he just didn't want to give up control of himself. And his reason for that had just plopped down next to him.

"Mikkeeeee, come dance with me!" Micky said, throwing an arm over his shoulder. Mike chuckled.

"You know I'm not a dancer, Mick." He said. Micky had been dancing most of the night, with plenty of different partners, and Mike in turn had been watching most of the night. 

"Awwww, but i haven't seen you all night!" As he said this, Micky buried his face in Mike’s shoulder. Mike did his best not to react visibly, but he thought Micky could probably feel him shudder a little anyway. This boy affected him like no one else. If only he knew. 

“Sorry babe, if you wanna dance with me, you gotta do it without the crowd. We don’t need to subject them all to my gangliness.” He tried cracking a joke. Micky smiled against his neck.

“I love your gangliness.” He said simply. 

Mike both loved and hated how Micky got when he was wasted. He got very sweet, and very flirty. And it sometimes made Mike wonder if there was something there for him too. Because he wasn’t necessarily like that with the others. He would say he loved them all a lot when he was wasted, but it felt different. He would wrestle with Davy, and he would talk about big ideas with Peter. But with Mike, he was most likely to cuddle up to him. But Mike knew better than to take his drunk or high actions as proof of his feelings. He hadn’t ever done something while sober to make him think this wasn’t just how he acted.

Micky wasn’t one to sit still pretty much ever, and especially not while at a party. Before long, he was getting fidgety, and Mike nudged his head up with his shoulder. 

“You get on back to the party now babe, I’ll still be here.” Micky gave him a blinding smile before jumping up and running back into the crowd of people dancing. Mike had planned on resuming watching him dance, but it wasn’t long before Peter sat down next to him and followed Mike’s gaze, which was slow to leave Micky.

“I really think you should tell Micky you’re in love with him. You would make such a groovy couple.” Peter said, and that was enough to get Mike to whip his head over towards him. He wasn’t really surprised that Peter knew, because Peter was very intuitive to things like this, and he had given Mike some looks before. But he had never outright addressed it to Mike. And of all times to do it, they were in public, surrounded by strangers.

“Now Peter, this really ain’t the place to be talking about things like that.” Peter seemed unbothered.

“Mike, this is a party of hippies. It doesn’t get more accepting than that. And I stand by what I said. You should tell him.”   
“It ain’t like that for him, Pete.” And there it was, as close to a confession Mike could get. That it  _ was _ like that for him. That he was queer, and that he was in love with Micky. He couldn’t deny it to himself, and he couldn’t find it in himself to deny it to Peter right now either. He was in real deep, and he was sure that it really wasn’t like that for Micky. At least not while he was in his right mind.

“I don’t think drugs alter who we are at all, they just open our minds.” Mike blinked, surprised to hear Peter comment on the exact thing that he was thinking about.

“I’m not sure I agree with you there buddy, but I appreciate it anyway.” Mike very much didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “Where’s Davy gone off to?”

“Oh, he left with a girl a little while ago. I was supposed to tell you.”

“Oh, alright, groovy. Do you think you’ll be ready to go soon?” Mike was certainly ready to go home and try and put tonight out of his mind, but he didn’t want to force his friends to leave early. Peter nodded.   
“Yeah, I’ll just start saying goodbye to people.” 

And with that, Mike was alone at his perch once again. He had lost track of Micky in talking to Peter, and looking over the crowd, he spotted him again taking shots with someone he didn’t recognize. If he had to guess, he’d say Micky probably didn’t know her either. But she was just his type; tall, blonde, and accepting when he threw an arm around her, laughing big. It was inaudible from where Mike was, but he could hear it all the same, from years of hearing Micky laughing like that. He knew Micky better than this girl ever would, but she was the one who could have him. He wasn’t sure if that made him angry or just sad. Mike sighed to himself over his sudden bout of jealousy and finally pushed up from his spot to go collect him.

“Hey Mick-” He started, tapping Micky on his shoulder to get his attention, and promptly getting cut off by Micky throwing his arm around Mike, and seemingly all his weight behind it. He recovered from stumbling the best he could, and felt a rush of satisfaction at Micky choosing to let the girl go for him.

“Mike!” Mike flinched from the volume, but Micky didn't notice and stayed just as loud. "Do you wanna take a shot with me?" 

"Micky, we're about to head out, and I'm definitely the only one who can drive us home right now." Micky pouted at the news, but he tended to be very agreeable when he was drunk or high. And sure enough, he didn't protest. Micky let his head fall onto Mike’s shoulder, and Mike turned to his drinking partner.

"Sorry to take him away, but I’m sure you’ll recover”. And with that, he put his arm around Micky’s waist to lead him towards the front, where Peter was waiting. The girl huffed, but ultimately just turned to find someone else to entertain her. She probably didn’t deserve his disdain, but it had been a long night for Mike.

Once he had herded the other two out to the Monkeemobile, he deposited Micky in the passenger seat, and Peter, much more in control, climbed in the back. Micky whined a little when Mike walked away to get to the other side of the car, and when he sat in the driver’s seat, Micky grabbed his hand almost instantly. Nothing could just be simple. Mike did his best to ignore Peter’s eyes trying to meet his through the rear view mirror.

“Babe, I gotta drive.” Micky let go, but laid his hand on top of Mike’s again when he put it on the stick shift. Mike avoided looking at that too.

“I don’t wanna float off.” Micky said in explanation. Mike supposed he could drive this way, and the faster they got home, the faster Micky would be asleep and stop doing things that made Mike feel too much.

“Alright, you won’t float off, I’ve got you.” Mike felt Micky smile at him more than he saw it as he finally started the car and started the fairly short drive home. Micky hummed along to the radio lazily, and for a minute Mike let himself imagine this was just his life. Without complications.

When they had parked back at the Pad, Mike once again had his arm around Micky, supporting him for the walk inside. He told Peter to drink some water before he slept, and went back downstairs for another glass for Micky after depositing him on his bed. When he got back in their room though, Micky wasn’t on the bed anymore.

Instead, he was standing near the record player they kept in their room, and there was soft music playing.

“I got you some water Micky, why don’t you drink some before you sleep?” Micky turned around and smiled, and Mike’s breath hitched just a little from the affection he saw in those eyes.

“Dance with me first.”

“C’mon babe, I told you earlier, I’m no dancer.”

“You said if I wanted to dance with you I’d have to do it away from the crowd. And we’re away from the crowd. And I want to dance with you.” Micky was a little unsteady as he walked over to Mike, who was seemingly frozen, but he managed to take the glass of water from his hands and put it on the dresser without incident. “Will you dance with me?”

And dammit, but Mike was helpless to refuse, with the sweet music, and the soft lighting making Micky’s face look even more beautiful, and all the affection from earlier in the night. When Micky reached up and put his hands on Mike’s shoulders, Mike put his on Micky’s waist, and tried to remember to breathe. He wanted to think about this logically, but his brain seemed to have left the building. In what way could this be platonic? He couldn’t see himself standing this close to Davy or Peter, swaying to the music and staring into their eyes.

Micky seemed to be searching for something in his eyes. And supposedly he found it, because he hummed and laid his down on Mike’s collar bone. Mike halfheartedly hoped his panic wasn’t showing in his eyes, but he knew it must have been.

“I love you Mike.” Micky said simply.

“...I love you too Mick.” He said after a moment. The situation was strange, but they had said it to each other plenty of times before. And it was true anyway, of course.

The music ended, but Mike swore he could still hear it in his head as he and Micky kept swaying, slower and slower, practically just holding each other in the middle of the room now. Micky brought his head back up, and Mike only had a second to look at his face before Micky was leaning in to kiss him.

Micky kisses soft, but insistent, and Mike finds himself gripping Micky tighter and giving all he can back. He tries to commit to memory exactly how it feels to have Micky in this way. How his arms feel around him, strong and secure. How he moves one hand up into Mike’s hair to hold him in place. How his lips feel on his, how they move, and how they taste. 

They taste like alcohol.

And just like that, Mike remembers why he shouldn’t. He pulls back, even when it takes all his self control as Micky tries to pull him back in. Micky was drunk, and he was high. He wasn’t in his right mind, and Mike couldn’t take advantage of him like this just because he was in love. Mike couldn’t look Micky in the eyes. Couldn’t face what he just allowed to happen. They were still standing close, but no longer touching, and Mike stared at their shoes for a minute.

“Mike-” Micky starts.

“You should drink that water Mick. And get some sleep.” He doesn’t look up as he speaks. Before Micky can respond, he turns and leaves the room. He wonders if Micky feels as cold as he does, now that they’re not pressed together.

His mind is in a whirl, and the next thing he knows, he’s on the porch, with a guitar next to him, and his head pressed into his hands. He’s glad to see that Micky hasn’t followed him though. He needed some time to himself to think.

He should never have let it get that far. Should never have even agreed to dance with him. But he wanted to be able to enjoy the closeness, just for a minute. The moment would have been perfect, intimate and beautiful, if only Micky had been sober. Maybe tomorrow, when he would be... But Mike didn’t know if Micky would even remember what had happened in the morning, let alone if he would still want Mike. He didn’t want to give himself false hope, but he could still feel Micky’s lips against his own if he thought about it.

He decided not to think about it, and instead to play guitar. He figures he could probably write a song about this situation, but since he is not thinking about it, he doesn’t try. He plays other people’s songs, and a few of theirs. He’s not in the mood for anything upbeat, which means he mostly plays songs about love and heartbreak.

It was already late into the night -or early in the morning- when they got back from the party, and Mike was exhausted. But he knew he wouldn’t sleep, even if he could go back to the room he shared with Micky. So he kept playing, and he took long breaks of staring out at the ocean and praying this wouldn’t ruin his friendship with Micky, or the band. Micky would know how he felt. Mike kissed him back, no doubt about it, and he was fully sober. If Micky really only wanted him because of the drink or drug, it would destroy what he had. And even if the others were as accepting of him being queer as Peter was, his feelings could still wreck the dynamic of the band. They were all he had, and he couldn’t lose them.

Mike lost track of time, alternating between thinking about everything that could go wrong, and trying to distract himself from thinking about it by playing. The beginnings of the sunrise caught him off guard, but didn’t disturb him from his playing. It did maybe help slow down his bad thoughts. Or maybe his brain had just finally tired itself out. He was even considering just going on up to bed, when he was startled by a car pulling up to the house, and Davy getting out. He walked up to where Mike was sitting, and gave him a once over.

“Did you get any sleep at all? You look a right mess.” He said.

“Well thanks buddy.” Davy must have heard the despair in his voice, or seen it in the slump of his shoulders. He sat down next to Mike and looked him right in the eyes.

“Well what happened?” Mike sighed. There was no point in hiding it from Davy. In the end, this was an event that would affect the whole band.

“Micky kissed me.” He responded simply. He admired that Davy could usually ask just the right questions to get to the bottom of something, because he was sure he didn’t have it in himself right now to explain it.

“And you didn’t want him to?”

“He was wasted.”

“But you would have wanted him to, otherwise?” Mike was frustrated. He’d tried so hard to keep it a secret.

“Does everyone know I’m in love with Micky? Peter knew. Does Micky know?” 

“Hey, I didn’t know mate, that’s why I asked.” Davy said, holding his hands up placatingly. “I thought maybe you liked him. What I do know is Micky's head over heels for you.” Mike was stunned.

“What makes you think that?” Mike asks cautiously. Davy snorts.

“Micky’s way easier to read than you are. Practically a children’s picture book. You only have to watch how he acts around you for about ten minutes to see he’s absolutely crazy over you.” Mike stayed silent. Davy seemed awful sure, but Mike never noticed it. After a minute, Davy caught on that he wasn’t going to respond to that.

“If you’re in love with Micky, like you say, you should talk to him about it.”

“He’s only ever seemed interested when he was drunk, or high. Or last night, he was both. I got no reason to think he’d still be interested otherwise.”   
“I just told you he is interested. I’m sure of it. He’s just about as close to having stars in his eyes as he can get without me in the equation.” Mike gave him a look, and Davy quickly amended “And believe me, I’m not going to be in the equation. I’m fully rooting for you two to work it out.”

“Well... that’s nice. Thank you Davy.” Mike pursed his lips and angled his face as far away from Davy’s gaze as he could, feeling tears start to well up in his eyes. It seemed like the end of the conversation, but Davy hesitated for a moment more before speaking up again.

“You know, I think he might just be nervous. And that’s why he only made a move when he was out of his gourd. I mean, you’re too nervous to tell him. And our Micky’s not exactly the bravest person out there. But he is impulsive. Maybe this was just his way of telling you.” Mike once again didn’t have a response to that. But maybe Davy wasn’t expecting one, because he stood up and offered a hand to Mike.

“I’m gonna go make some breakfast while we still have some eggs. Do you want some?” Mike smiled softly to himself. He was truly lucky to have the friends he did.

“No thanks babe, I’m gonna stay out here a while longer.” His conversation with Davy had helped immensely, but it had also given him more to think about. About if maybe Micky did feel the same way. And he wasn’t feeling quite ready to go back in.

“Suit yourself, don’t blame me though if you don’t get to eat any of the eggs.” Davy said lightly as he walked in the house.

Mike huffed out a laugh, and picked up his guitar once more. The combination of the new daylight and his conversation with Davy was putting him in a much better mood, but he couldn’t deny that he was nervous as all hell. Nervous to see Micky. No matter what Davy said, Mike wasn’t sure how Micky would react to what went down last night. And he knew, even if Micky didn’t remember, Mike would tell him. He wouldn’t be able to keep something like that from Micky.

By the time someone comes outside, Mike can feel his eyes drooping, despite his nerves. Somehow, without looking, he knows it’s Micky this time. Even if he is being much quieter than he normally would be. He sits down next to Mike, in pretty much the same place Davy had been, but doesn’t say anything while Mike plays. Mike doesn’t look at him until he reaches the end of the song. When he does, he sees that he brought a plate of eggs and a glass of water with him.

“Davy said you turned down eggs, but I thought you should probably have some anyway, while we’ve got ‘em.” He said, setting the plate down next to Mike’s thigh.

“Thanks Mick.” Mike said, but made no effort to pick them up yet. His stomach felt like it was doing flips, and he wasn’t sure food is what he wanted right now. He did however, take a drink of the water. He had been singing for a long time.

“Anyway, I figure we should probably talk about last night, huh?” Micky looked sheepish, and Mike prepared himself to be let down easy.

“I’m really sorry Mike.” Micky wasn’t making eye contact, but was instead inspecting the wood of the porch. “I shouldn’t have forced myself on you like that.” Mike blinked. “I know that it’s a bad idea to get drunk when I’m around you, cause we both know that I don’t have self control at the best of times, but I do it anyway. Maybe cause I know that’s the only time I’ll have enough courage to do anything. Anyway, I’m really sorry about last night, because you were just taking care of me, and I was totally inappropriate to you just cause I’m in love with you.” Micky spoke faster and faster as he went along, so much that Mike almost didn’t catch that last part. And when he did hear it, he almost couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe how much Micky’s feelings matched his own.

“You said you’re...”   
“In love with you.” Micky repeated, this time more firmly, looking into Mike’s eyes. “I’d apologise for that too, but I’ve tried to stop before and I couldn’t. I can switch rooms, if you want.” Mike reached out and placed his hand on top of Micky’s. Micky’s eyes widened, and Mike smiled a little at the sight.

“This is for real? You’re not foolin’ me?” Micky, seemingly surprised by the contact, just nodded. It was enough to confirm it for Mike, and his smile broke out into a full grin.

“I love you too, Micky.” At that, Micky’s jaw dropped open a little bit. Mike felt an extra rush of affection for his boy, just watching him look so flustered. And since Micky had laid it all out, Mike felt like it was time for him to talk about it too. “I was just worried you were only interested in me when you were wasted. Like that you got drunk and just thought it would be fun. I don’t think I could handle it if you thought of me as just a fling.” At that, Micky turned his hand so he could lace his fingers through Mike. This was so much better than Micky grabbing his hand when he was drunk.

“Mike, I’m into you always.” Mike could feel himself blush at that, and hoped it wasn’t too obvious. “Now this time, I’m gonna ask first. Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” was all Mike could say in response.

Micky smiled and leaned in slowly, placing his free hand on the side of Mike’s face. And when their lips met for the second time in a few hours, Mike was elated to find it felt even better than before. Because now he knew Micky meant it. He could feel the slight awkwardness that came with confessions, and the warmth of the feelings that went with them. He could taste toothpaste and eggs instead of alcohol. And he could feel his own heart soaring.

Mike was the first to pull back after a lingering moment, and watched as Micky’s eyes slowly opened and met his.

“Gosharoony.” Micky almost whispered, and Mike couldn’t help but laugh a little at the awestruck tone.

“I can barely believe this.” Mike said, staring right back, probably looking just as awestruck. “I feel like I must’ve gotten so tired I dreamed this all up.”

“I’m here. I’m pretty surprised too, but this is real.” His grin was back full force. He leaned in again, but this time just placed a peck on Mike’s lips before pulling back fully and pushing the plate of eggs towards him.

“Now Mike, you’re always taking care of us. Take care of yourself. You gotta sleep man, and eat while we have food. I’ll be here.” He squeezed Mike’s hand and then let it go to grab the guitar from where Mike had put it down. Mike bit the side of his cheek to try and keep from tearing up. He blamed it on the lack of sleep, and the practical roller coaster he’d been on.

“Alright Mick, I’ll eat. Are you gonna play me something?” He picked up the plate and leaned back some to watch Micky situate himself. He didn’t play guitar often, cause he said there wasn’t a point when he wasn’t as good as Mike or Peter were at it, but Mike loved it when he did play. Just like he loved to listen to him sing.

“Yup, just for you babe.” Micky threw a wink his way, and Mike tried to cover up his blush by shoveling some eggs into his mouth.

And for a while longer, it continued on like that. Mike ate his eggs, and listened to Micky play and sing for him. He felt his eyes drooping once more. Now that his insides were less twisted up, the tiredness was getting to him. And Micky’s voice sure was soothing...

Mike must have drifted off for a second, cause the next thing he knew, Micky was gently shaking his shoulder.

“I’d love to carry you up the stairs, but I don’t think I could lift you for that long.” Micky said sheepishly. “I’ll need a bit of your help here.” Mike, still pretty out of it, got to his feet with Micky’s help, and slumped himself onto Micky. And then suddenly they were in their bedroom, and Micky was setting him down on his bed. He goes to pull back, but Mike keeps a grip on him. He hears Micky laugh a little, and smiles when he climbs into bed with Mike instead of leaving.

Mike drifts off to sleep with his head on Micky’s chest, listening to him hum softly, and feels content.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it obvious I've never been drunk or high? Oh well, I had fun writing this anyway :)


End file.
